Cherishing You As Always - Chapter 8

“Yin Yunchi?”

What an ordinary name—nothing special about it. I repeated it a few times to get used to it. The person who had run off was already long gone.

A small crowd started to gather around me, whispering and pointing fingers. I glared and snapped, “What are you looking at? Never seen an argument before?”

They immediately scattered.

My father had brought me to this academy, but I didn’t expect it to be the same as always. I hadn’t even done anything yet, and everyone here already looked at me like mice seeing a cat. Was I really that scary?

The old man smiled as he continued leading me further in. Judging by his smile just now, I could tell he was in a pretty good mood.

From the school building, we walked down a narrow path that led to another area. The terrain was much lower there, but relatively flat. From where we stood, I could see four rows of buildings. The space between them was wide, showing just how large the grounds were. Each row of buildings was divided into small courtyards, almost like a patchwork of multiple yards stitched together. High walls separated the rows.

Standing at the side of those buildings, I pointed toward them and curiously asked the old man, “What’s going on with those? Why are they all separated like that?”

Following my gaze, the old man replied, “Those four rows— the first row is where the scholars and tutors live. The second row is for the book servants. The third row is for the male students. Most of them are from wealthy families and are used to having their own space, so they each get a courtyard to themselves. Only when space runs out do two people share a room. As for the fourth row, well, that goes without saying—it’s for the female students. You’ll be living there soon enough.”

He didn’t stop walking as he spoke, and I followed his lead, stepping over stone slabs toward the residential area. I took another good look at the place I’d be staying in.

The decorations were elegant and noble, the tall buildings exuding scholarly grace. Among all the academies I’ve ever read about, this must be the finest one.

There was no gaudy luxury, only subtle sophistication. This was truly a place for studying—solemn and traditionally elegant, an ideal setting.

All thoughts of that girl from earlier left my mind. It had nothing to do with me, so why should I dwell on it?

Step by step, I followed the old man up a flight of stairs. He said to me, “The tutors should all be at the schoolhouse now, preparing for class. I’ll take you to see the head scholar. He should be reading right now.”

I nodded and continued following him. We arrived at a courtyard in the center. The old man stopped and pointed to it. “Look, this is the head scholar’s courtyard.”

Looking in, it didn’t seem any different from the others we had passed—if anything stood out, it was the two trees planted in front of the house.

The old man led me in, and we walked to the very center. Only then did I see that between the two trees, there was a hammock with a young man lying on it, reading a book. The old man cleared his throat lightly, and the man looked up, startled, then quickly sat up.

That was the first time I saw his face—handsome without being overly delicate, gentle yet scholarly, fresh in temperament. He had a tall, upright figure and striking features. A true gentleman.

He curled his lips into a faint smile and said in a warm voice, “Is something the matter?”

The old man immediately said, “This is the new student arriving today. I’ve brought her to meet you, Head Scholar.”

So this was the head scholar? Weren’t they usually older? Why was he so young?

I was momentarily stunned but quickly remembered the letter from my father. I pulled it out and handed it to him.

His brow furrowed, then relaxed. Then furrowed again, then smoothed out. His expression shifted several times as he read. Occasionally, he glanced at me but quickly looked away again.

I ventured, “This is a letter from my father to you. He said he knows you and that you would accept me into the academy. If it’s too much trouble, please feel free to say so. Song Lanlou doesn’t force people.”

Thinking he was having second thoughts, I turned to leave, but he suddenly grabbed my shoulder. I glared at him, and he quickly let go, taking a step back.

He then said, “Miss Song, right? I didn’t mean it like that. You misunderstood… I’ll arrange your accommodations right away.”

He crumpled the letter and stuffed it into his sleeve. I couldn’t help but wonder—what exactly did my father write?

Not giving me a chance to ask, he turned to the old man and said, “Uncle Liu, please make arrangements for Miss Song. Settle her servants and belongings.”

So the old man’s surname was Liu. As he turned to leave, I quickly called out, “Uncle Liu, please take good care of Zihui. Once I find my own quarters, I’ll go look for her.”

I bowed respectfully to him. Uncle Liu smiled helplessly, then hurried off.

The head scholar didn’t seem in any rush. He scanned me from head to toe with a scrutinizing gaze. I just stood there, uncomfortable under his stare—I really hated being looked at like that.

“Head Scholar, shouldn’t you be taking me to find my quarters?” I asked.

Before I finished speaking, he smiled and said warmly, “My name is Li Tianxi. Li from Zhao Qian Sun Li, Tian as in the sky, and Xi as in bustling. And you?”

He had just introduced himself and was now asking for my name. I was a bit dazed before responding, “My name is Song Lanlou. Song as in Song Qi Liang Chen, Lan from ‘orchid,’ and Lou as in ‘pavilion near water.’”

Didn’t I already introduce myself earlier? Was his hearing bad?

I shook my head. So this handsome scholar had a flaw after all.

When I looked up again, he was watching me. But the moment I met his eyes, he looked away. Had he never seen a woman before?

“Head Scholar, now that we’ve exchanged names, can we go find my quarters?” I said loudly on purpose, just to give him a bit of a shock.

Sure enough, he immediately covered his ears and even rubbed them a few times. I quickly stepped out of his courtyard and said, “Head Scholar, please hurry. I’ve traveled a long way and I’m exhausted. If you’re free, please help me settle in.”

He followed from behind, walking beside me. He asked, “Are you really Master Song’s biological daughter?”

He must’ve meant my father, so I answered, “Of course. Why do you ask?”

From the moment he saw me, he’d been acting oddly. To be honest, I didn’t have a very good impression of him. But since he was the head scholar and knew my father, if I so much as frowned, he might send a letter home by carrier pigeon. That’d be the end of me. So, I figured I’d best avoid provoking him.

I had to admit—he looked stunning when he smiled. There was nothing feminine about him; he radiated masculinity. His strength and grace were perfectly balanced. Though his scholar’s robe concealed his figure, a breeze swept past and outlined his form beneath the cloth.

How could such a man be content living out here in the mountains?